


Piano Man

by RabbitKing (DJBunn3)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cancer, Leukemia, Multi, Pianist AU, Slow Build, Tsubaki cries over dogs, like extremely slow build i'm so sorry, mentions of divorce and parental abandonment, picks up around chapter five but there's lots of other good stuff in there, ™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/RabbitKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spirit wants his daughter to carry on his musical legacy. Maka wants to go to grad school and lead a normal life. Kid is an OCD artist and Black Star is his (definitely not) trusty companion. Patty is sick and Liz wants her to get better.<br/>Soul just wants to play piano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul is Fed Up™. Black Star takes him to a bar.

“Who did you say you were, again?” Soul asks, his eyelids drooping with disdain. The wiry, plain looking girl in front of him perches her hand on her hip, the other resting against the grand piano he’s currently seated at.

“I’m your new student, Maka,” she replies.

“Sorry,” Soul grunts, turning back to the sheets in front of him. “You must have the wrong guy. I don’t give lessons. Especially not to strangers.”

Maka sighs. “Maybe I should re-introduce myself. I’m your new student, Maka _Albarn_.”

Oh.

 _Damn it,_ Soul thinks, realization hitting him in the face. This is Spirit-kun’s daughter, the one he’d promised to teach on a drunken whim. It had started as a joke, with Spirit complaining about his daughter’s lack of musical ability, how it hadn’t been passed down to her and he was so devastated, and Stein remarking that Soul could probably whip her into shape.

“They’re not too far apart, age-wise,” Stein had said. “He’s probably got a better chance than you, old man.”

If he’d had less pride, he’d have denied such a fact. (His people skills were a little rusty.) But these two were old-timers in the music industry, and the fact that they let him hang around meant that they respected him. Plus, Spirit _was_ the one who’d discovered him when he was all rags and grime and 2 AM shifts at McDonalds, so he really couldn’t say no.

And now here he is with this talentless kid and a promise he has to keep.

“I’m busy,” he grumbles, mentally cursing himself. Might as well get this over with now, so he can complain to Black Star later while simultaneously getting drunk.

“That’s fine, so am I,” Maka replies nonchalantly, and Soul’s temper flares.

“So what’re you doing here, then?” he asks, flashing his sharp teeth. Maka remains unfazed, cocking her head to the side and leveling her gaze.

“I’m here to set a time for my first lesson. When are you free?”

Soul thinks for a second. “Next week on Monday… at four.”

“I have book club. What about Sunday?”

“Can’t do. I’ve got a show.”

“All day?”

Soul grimaces. “Well, no. Sunday doesn’t work, okay? What about Friday after you get out of school?”

Maka frowns, her sandy brown eyebrows drawing together. “How old do you think I am?”

Squinting, Soul tries to remember. What had Spirit said? Sixteen? Eighteen? She couldn’t be much older than that.

“Eighteen?” he tries. Maka’s frown deepens.

“I turned nineteen half a year ago,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Soul blinks. “Really? You don’t look it.”

A deep blush spreads from her neck to her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I’m in university right now!”

“Well then, why are you wearing a high school uniform?” Soul snaps, gesturing to her outfit.

“These are my normal clothes!” Maka pulls at her yellow vest pointedly. “Not everyone can dress like they’re going to a funeral at four on a Wednesday.”

“You could’ve gravely offended me there,” Soul points out with a sneer. “What if I actually _was_ going to a funeral after this?”

Maka looks enraged. “If you were, you wouldn’t be at a recording studio playing a waltz,” she snaps.

“The piano calms me down. It’s relaxing.”

“It’s disrespectful.” Maka sniffs. “Besides, there’s no way you’re _actually_ going to a funeral.”

“And there’s no way you’re _actually_ in university.”

Maka glares daggers at him. “Whatever. I can do Friday at three, okay?”

“Looking forward to it, shortstack,” Soul replies with a sneer. She glares back.

“Fine.” Maka turns her back, but tilts her head so he can hear her last sentence. “You know, you’re nothing like Papa said.”

* * *

 

“Oh, man!” Black Star exclaims, laughing much too loud and much too vigorously for Soul’s taste. “You’re a real idiot, you know!”

“You were _there_ ,” Soul snaps, glancing self-consciously around the bar. “Why didn’t you stop me from saying anything? I would have a free Friday if you’d just shut me up!”

“You can’t blame me this time!” Black Star crows. “You did this to yourself. Wait ‘till Kid hears you’ve got a date with a high school runt!”

“It’s not a date,” Soul replies testily, smacking Black Star on the back of his head. “And she’s in college, idiot,” he adds.

“Man, your luck sure has been awful lately,” Black Star replies, though his eyes soften with sympathy.

Soul knows what he’s talking about. If his new album doesn’t get enough sales, his record label is threatening to drop him for some new-age pop star who was born in the right century. On top of all that, his girlfriend Liz just dumped him because he was taking time away from her sister, Patty.

“I’ll survive,” he replies with a half-hearted shrug. “I work hard.”

“You might want some alcohol to go with that,” Black Star replies. “On me.”

“Thanks,” Soul says. Black Star might be a typical, immature, high school boy, (despite being twenty one in a few weeks), but he really is a good friend. Once, when his parents were still together (and alive), Soul’s dad kicked him out for being caught with pot. Black Star took him in, and even went so far as to offer to claim that the drugs were his. Soul didn’t let him, of course, but the gesture had been genuinely touching.

Black Star orders two shots of something Soul doesn’t want to think about and slides one over to him. It burns his throat on the way down, but it’ll most likely get him drunk faster than anything else.

“Speaking of Kid, have you heard from him?” he asks. Black Star shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, he’s been dead to the world for the past week. I’ll call him up tomorrow, don’t worry.” Soul’s blue-haired friend grins. “I could talk to Liz if you wanted,” he adds with a wink.

“No, thanks.” Soul pushes the empty shot glass away, already feeling a little sick. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Can we stop talking about Liz for a while?” he asks. Black Star sighs.

“You can’t solve your problems by pushing them away, Soul,” he says. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to talk to her.”

Soul shakes his head. He understands why Liz chose Patty over him. If he had a younger sibling with leukemia, he’d have done the same. After Patty was sent to the hospital, Liz hardly had time for school, let alone a boyfriend. So she’d done the mature thing and broken up with him.

Even though he completely understands, Soul still feels a little resentment towards Liz. He hasn’t said anything, though, because wanting her to choose him over her sick little sister is cruel and horrible.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” he replies finally. Black Star relents with a shrug.

“So,” he continues, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, “do you want me to help you choose an outfit for your date?”

Soul slams his fist down on the counter so hard his empty glass jumps. “It’s not a date,” he growls. “I’m just making her dad happy.”

Black Star is howling with laughter. “Sensitive, much?” he gasps.

“You’re a horrible person.”

“Right back atcha.”

Soul glares. “I don’t understand how you and Kid get along.”

“Chemistry, my friend,” Black Star replies. He’s about to make another (probably rude) comment when his phone goes off. Black Star glances at the screen and immediately sobers up.

“It’s Kid,” he says. “I should take this.”

Soul sighs and turns back to the bar, though he has no intentions of ordering anything else. He tries to focus on anything but Liz and Patty and Kid, and ends up coming full circle back to Maka. If she’s as terrible as Spirit had said, it’ll be weeks before he can quit teaching her. And if her father wants her to become a professional, he’ll have to ditch all old fashioned training methods and try something new.

“Yo, Soul,” Black Star calls a few minutes later, waving to him from across the bar. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t you need to pay?” Soul asks.

“Just have them put it on my tab. They know me here.”

Soul repeats the message back to the bartender and drags his feet over to Black Star. “What did Kid call about?” he asks.

“He was just checking in. He asked if I could give him a ride later,” his friend explains. “Nothing important, really.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Black Star shakes his head. “Poor guy. Anyway, let’s get going.”

Soul slides into the passenger seat of Black Star’s obnoxiously bright orange Jeep Wrangler.

“You have horrible taste,” he grumbles, clicking his seat belt into place. “And should you really be driving? You drank more than I did.”

“I’m sober enough,” Black Star replies, grinning and giving Soul a thumbs-up. “No one’s a better driver than me.”

Soul groans and slumps against the car door. His head hurts; not from the alcohol, but from the day he’s been having. He presses his forehead against the cool glass of the window and closes his eyes, trying to get his mind to shut down. He can’t stop worrying about Kid, Liz, Patty, and (of course) his record label. If they drop him, he has _nothing,_ not a career or a dream or a future.

“You look a little green,” Black Star comments. “If you’re gonna be sick, do it outside the car.”

“I know, I know, you’ve told me before.”

“Just a friendly reminder.”

Black Star drops Soul off at his apartment with a promise to see him again soon. It’s a one-person flat, really, decorated with jazz club style furniture, a record player, and a glossy black grand piano. The walls are dark, maroon and black and gray, and the black and white tiled floor reflects a perfect image of everything above it turned upside down.

“I’m home,” Soul says, laughing at himself. He lives alone. How pathetic.

He wanders over and seats himself at his piano, running his fingers along the keys. _Now, about Maka…_

Soul has never taught anyone anything before. He doesn’t know where to begin. Piano comes naturally to him, like waves crashing on the shore, through his fingers, creating a steady rhythm in his head. His hands move in time with the ocean. It’s not something he can teach…

What had his father done to teach him, when he was a kid? Soul can’t remember very much about it. His father had left when he was young, and his mother had died shortly after, leaving him in the care of his grandparents. He remembers his father’s hands covering his own small ones, moving them across the keys.

_“See, Soul, this is a scale. Do, re, mi…”_

His father’s voice was gentle and warm. He always wore his wedding ring, and it was cold when it pressed against Soul’s hands. And his eyes were red. Soul can’t remember anything else about him.

“This is a scale,” he says to himself, playing the row of notes with professional accuracy. “Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do. Now you.”

He lets himself play the scale again, purposefully pressing all the wrong keys at the wrong times. It can’t be that far off from her actual level of skill.

Then, he drifts into one of his newest compositions: something he’s calling _Le Ciel et L’enfer_. It’s the name of a book he’s seen on a shelf at his grandparents’ house, one his grandfather explained meant roughly “Heaven and Hell”. He starts at the lowest scale and makes his way to the highest, fingers flying over the keys.

Once upon a time, he might’ve played this for Liz. He’d ask her what she thought, and she’d tell him it was wonderful. Of course it would be, in her eyes. Everything he created was wonderful, even when they were just kids messing around with the instruments in the music room. He could’ve played a child’s lullaby and she’d have sang his praises. It’s one of the things he’s always loved about her.

_No._

Soul slams the lid of the piano in a fit of anger and tears off his jacket, draping it across the piano bench. He makes his way to his bedroom, shedding his clothes until he collapses onto his bed.

Let the last of the alcohol cloud his mind, and let it blur all thoughts of Liz. Right now, all he wants to do is sleep…

Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul and Black Star cheer Kid up with Reminiscent Cat Thoughts™.

“Kid-kun, are you home?” Soul calls, despite already knowing. (Kid’s car is in the driveway.) Black Star bangs on the door again.  
“Open up, Kid! Where are you?” he yells. A minute later, a raccoon-eyed Kid opens the door.  
“Soul, Black Star, hi,” he says tiredly. “You’re early.”  
“Sorry,” Soul apologizes, glaring at Black Star as he strides in uninvited. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”  
“Oh, I’m doing fine,” Kid says without any hint of emotion. “Just finishing my new series.”  
Kid is an artist who specializes in perfectly symmetrical painting. “Specializes” meaning he goes insane if even a drop of paint is out of place. On more than one occasion, Soul’s wondered if he has OCD.  
Moreover, Liz and Patty live with Kid. The Thompson sisters were adopted when Liz was nine and Patty was four, almost five. Soul had been friends with them ever since.  
“Do you want something to drink?” Kid asks. Black Star shakes his head, and Soul follows suit.  
“How’s Patty?” he asks. Kid shrugs.  
“She’s holding her own, for now,” he replies. “But even with the best doctors in the world, I’m not sure if she’ll…”  
Soul’s phone goes off with a _ding_. He reaches for it and turns it over, reading the text displayed on the screen.  
_We came to cheer him up, not depress him even more!_  
“Well, tonight let’s just have some fun,” Black Star says, a little too loudly. “You could use it,” he adds, his expression softening.  
Kid sighs wearily. “I’ve got to finish this installation,” he says.  
“Nope! You’re coming with us!”  
“Hey,” Soul says, “where exactly _are_ we going? You never told me.”  
“We’re going out clubbing, of course!” Black Star exclaims. Soul never could have told from his outfit: a white tank top with a faded food stain and black jeans. Kid’s wearing a simple black suit, black tie, which isn’t too different from his usual attire. Soul had decided to keep it understated with a faded, denim colored blazer, periwinkle button up, and gray slacks.  
“Where?” Kid asks.  
“That trendy little night club that just opened a month or so ago.”  
Soul blinks. “You mean By the Night? Isn’t that place really exclusive?”  
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Kid agrees. “How are we gonna get in?”  
Black Star grins. “I know a guy.”  
Soul doubts this will end well. Black Star may know a guy, but Soul knows _Spirit Albarn _and he could never secure a place there. Especially with two friends.__  
“Actually, Soul,” Kid continues, echoing his thoughts. “You’re pretty famous. Won’t they let you in?”  
“I’m a failed pianist,” Soul replies. “I’m not exactly Madonna.”  
“Quit your worrying.” Black Star waves his hand in the air passively. “I know the barista, and he knows the bouncer. We’re golden.”  
“I’m still not so sure I should-”  
“ _You’re coming, _” Soul and Black Star say at the same time. Kid huffs.__  
“Fine. But we’re taking my car, not your orange-mobile.”  
“Hey! My car is a lovely shade of orange!”  
Soul cringes. He prefers Kid’s sleek, black Aston Martin Vulcan to Kid’s hideous Jeep any day.  
“We always get weird looks when we take your car!” Kid’s saying.  
“Not as many as we take Soul’s millionaire coach,” Black Star snaps back.  
“I disagree with that,” Soul says.  
“We’re taking my car, and I’m driving.” Kid glares challengingly at Black Star, his eyes glinting with amusement when he relents.  
“Fine, fine. But your car is so _boring _,” Black Star complains.__  
“You make it sound like I drive a minivan.”  
“Ugh. Don’t even go there, or I’ll be sick.”

* * *

By the Night opened just over a month ago, and it’s already been visited by several local celebrities. (They actually _do_ ask Soul to sign a picture for them to put on their wall). It’s not the kind of sleazy, neon lights club Black Star belongs in, but more of a classy place with a fancy bar in the middle and booths and tables along the walls. Despite all this, it keeps the atmosphere casual and just a bit seductive with music, good lighting, and a dance floor.  
True to his word, Black Star gets them in easily. When the creepy bouncer at the front is about to kick them out of line, he calls the barista out. The boy is tall, impossibly thin, and ghostly, with big eyes and pink hair.  
“Hey, Crona,” Black Star greets him. “Any chance you can squeeze in three more?”  
Crona nods. “I know him, Ragnarok,” he says to the muscled guy with the mask. “Let them in.”  
“Fine,” the bouncer replies in a voice not at all fitting to his physique. “You sure take the fun out of this job.”  
Crona ushers them in, then scuttles back to his position at the bar while Black Star leads them to a secluded booth. Soul lets him order the drinks, choosing to make small talk with Kid instead.  
“Is Liz doing well?” he asks, trying not to sound interested.  
“She’s okay, I guess. She basically won’t leave the hospital, and I don’t think she’s sleeping well, but she’s trying to stay positive for Patty’s sake.”  
“That’s just like her,” Black Star says.  
“I know. Remember when the school cat got stuck in a tree?” Black star smiles. “Patty started screaming, and Liz was almost crying, but she didn’t let herself. Instead, she told Patty that it would be okay, and the cat would get to climb down the tree with a fireman.”  
“She called the cat Lucky after that,” Soul remembers. “Because Liz told her, _'Isn’t that cat so lucky? He gets to meet a fireman'_.”  
Kid chuckles. “I think that cat got run over.”  
“What? It did?”  
“Yeah. Patty came home talking about a dead animal on the road.”  
“Did she know it was Lucky?” Soul asks.  
“No, I don’t think she ever put it together,” Kid replies. “Fortunately for us. Liz knew, because she was the one who picked Patty up from school, and of course I knew, because she told me, but neither of us said anything to Patty.”  
“You’re a good brother,” Soul says.  
“ _Too_ good,” Black Star adds, eyeing Kid’s almost full shot. “Drink up, or you’ll never get to having any fun.”  
“What is this?” Kid asks, swirling the clear liquid in its cup. “I don’t trust your strange drinks. Especially after the Lego and pie incident.”  
Soul cringes. “Don’t. We don’t need to re-live that.”  
“It’s vodka. Now drink up or I’ll have to pour it down your throat.”  
Kid sniffs the glass. “That’s not vodka.”  
“Think of it as a mystery drink, then.” Black Star tips his head back and downs his third shot, slamming the glass onto the table. He grins hugely.  
“I don’t trust you, either,” Soul says. But he drinks the shot anyway.

* * *

“You’re late,” Maka says when he comes in the next day.  
“I’m perfectly on time,” Soul replies, though the clock on the wall says otherwise. His head is pounding from Black Star’s ‘mystery drink’, and the bright artificial room light isn’t helping. He shrugs off his jacket. “You know, you could be a little nicer.”  
“That’s funny, coming from you.”  
“I’m the one who’s taking the time out of my _very_ busy life to teach you.”  
“Still.” Maka sniffs.  
“I’m offended.” Soul glares. “Deeply. Let’s just get this over with, okay? Then you can go back to high school and I’ll move on with my life, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”  
“I’m not in high school!” Maka exclaims. Soul gives her a blank look and motions towards the piano bench.  
“So, how much do you actually know?” he asks.  
“I don’t know. Not much.” Maka smoothes her hands over the bench on either side of her.  
“Do you know what a scale is?”  
Maka frowns. “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”  
“And can you read sheet music?” Soul continues, flipping through his own sheets until he finds the simplest one. It’s really more of a muzak piece than a piano song, but it’ll do. “Can you play this?”  
Maka squints at the pages. “Um… I think so?”  
“Then do it.”  
Soul watches her hands hover over the keys uncertainly. With the grace of a baby elephant, she plays the first note in the arrangement incorrectly. The song crumbles to pieces in her hands as she moves her hands up and down the scale.  
_This is music?_  
The result is about 50/50, but the good fifty is turning into a forty, and from that even further down. Soul wants to cover his ears, or maybe get down on his knees and beg her to stop, but for the sake of maturity and professionalism, he doesn’t. Maka surprises him by finishing the piece with almost accurate notes. When the last one is played, her hands drop to her sides.  
“Don’t say it. I know.”  
_Patience._ “Try it again,” Soul says. Maka cracks her knuckles and begins the song.  
If Soul’s music is like an ocean, Maka’s is like a drought. Or a flood. Or a hurricane. She has no central rhythm, and yet her hands are too strong; they don’t play the instrument, they _dominate_ it. Soul feels bad for the piano.  
When she’s finished, Maka turns to look at Soul. “Well?”  
“Did you even read the sheet music this time?” Soul asks.  
Maka shrugs. “When I could.”  
“What do you mean, when I could? You said you could read it!”  
“I can read it.” Maka glares. “You’re not my first piano teacher, you know. Papa taught me sheet music and keys when I was a kid, and he used to bring in tutors to help me.”  
“Why did he stop?” Soul asks. “Lose hope?”  
“My tutor moved away.”  
“Oh, that’s convenient for someone as hopeless as you.”  
“I’m not hopeless!” Maka exclaims. “You’re just a bad teacher!”  
“You just can’t read sheet music.”  
“I can read sheet music!”  
“Then why didn’t you play the piece _on the paper_?”  
“I tried!” she snaps. “But it’s hard to do both. If I’d payed closer attention, I would’ve paused every few notes!”  
“Pausing every _beat_ would have been better than that!” Soul replies, a razor sharp edge in his voice.  
Maka stands up from the piano bench and looks away. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t live up to your expectations.”  
“Oh, you more than lived up to them.” Soul glares, not ready to let this go. This girl is getting on his nerves, under his skin in a way he can’t begin to understand. “I thought you’d be absolutely _awful_. But I didn’t think I’d be right!”  
“Shut up!” Maka exclaims. “What does it matter if I can’t play? Why does anyone care?”  
“Because you’ve got a legacy to carry on!” Soul drops his head into his hands. “God, your dad is _Spirit Albarn_! How on earth are you so _horrible_?!”  
“Genetics!” Maka cries. “Everyone tells me I’m _nothing_ like my dad! Everyone says I’m exactly like _mom_!”  
“Was your mom a shortstack, too? Did she abuse the piano, too?” He’s rambling now. “If you’re just like your mother, I hope I never meet her!”  
“Well you never will!” Maka screams. “Because she’s _gone!_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maka cries over her mom. Tsubaki cries over Sad Dog Movies™.

There’s a hundred pound silence sitting between them. Maka’s chest is heaving and she’s fighting back tears with all her will. Soul’s frozen in shock, and she takes the opportunity to make a run for it.  
Soul doesn’t call after her, which she’s grateful for. She makes her way through the recording building, around the corners of never ending hallways, down the stairs (because screw the elevator, she’s not waiting), and out the door. Her convertible waits for her, parallel parked between a black Aston Martin and a police car.  
Maka throws herself into the driver’s seat and jams the key into the slot, turns it, and waits for the engine to roar to life, dialing Tsubaki’s number with her free hand. Tsubaki picks up after two rings.  
“Hello?”  
“My piano teacher’s a jerk,” Maka replies, wiping away her tears.  
“Maka, are you alright? What happened?” Tsubaki’s voice is soft and motherly-- she assumes. It’s already comforting her.  
“God, I don’t even know. I guess I didn’t play one of his songs right, and he started yelling at me because I was too slow or I couldn’t read the notes or whatever, and then he insulted my mom.”  
“What? Maka, that’s horrible!”  
“Yeah. It was really, really intense. He just-- Well, it wasn’t like he just started screaming about her or anything… I mean, he did, but…” Maka trails off uncertainly. “He, um…”  
“What happened?” Tsubaki asks again.  
“He was talking about how I should’ve gotten some of Papa’s musical talent, and I said I wasn’t like him, but I _was_ like my mom. And then he said if we were so alike, he hopes he’ll never meet her, and I…”  
She doesn’t know what else to say.  
“You left?” Tsubaki prods, ever understanding.  
Maka sniffs. “Yeah. That was probably immature of me, right? You’re gonna tell me to go back and face him.”  
“Definitely not!” Tsubaki exclaims. “He sounds like an over-sensitive jerk. All that just because you didn’t play a song right?”  
“Yeah. I got the feeling he’s not a people person…”  
Tsubaki pauses. “Hey, do you want to sleep over? Since we don’t have classes tomorrow or anything.”  
“Yes you do!”  
“Well, it’s just a little meeting. Not a real class.”  
“You’ll be tired,” Maka protests.  
“I’ll be fine. Come over.”  
“You’re the best.” Maka sniffs. “Want me to bring anything?”  
“I’ve got ice cream and tea, but if you’re going home for clothes you can bring a movie.”  
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll be there soon.”  
Ice cream and tea is Tsubaki’s favorite go-to comfort food combo, because ice cream is sweet and tea is warm. Maka doesn’t understand at all, but she has to admit that Breyers (and Breyers specifically, nothing else) French Vanilla and earl gray tea compliment each other well.  
Pulling out into the street, she navigates into the right lane and starts the short drive home. Her father insisted on getting her an apartment close to his work office so they could be as close as possible to each other. He’s always been clingy, especially after…  
Well, never mind.  
Maka switches on the radio, determined to take her mind off things. Whatever mindless yet trendy pop song is popular right now should do the trick. Bonus points if it’s catchy.  
She drives by the club where Crona works part-time, her mind spinning. It’s barely three forty and she’s already been driving for ten minutes, which means her resolve to get through the lesson, (calmly and civilly, at that, as if she had a chance,) has failed horribly.  
She’ll just have to quit and disappoint her father, or ask for a new teacher, or change her name and run away to a different country, because there’s no way she can go through _that_ again.

* * *

Maka knocks on the door, two movies in one hand and her overnight duffel slung over her shoulder. “Tsubaki?” she calls after a minute, knocking again. “It’s me. Are you home?”  
The door slides open. “Good afternoon, Maka,” she replies. “Come in. I have tea on the stove.”  
“Thanks again,” Maka says, setting the DVDs down on the coffee table.  
“Of course! You can put your stuff by the couch.”  
Tsubaki lives in their university dorms, but she plans to move out soon. It’s about midway through the school year, and most of the freshmen are settled down enough to start preparing for the future. Maka’s got her apartment, but Tsubaki’s parents couldn’t afford much more than basic tuition fees for her, so she works at Starbucks and the local homeless shelter as much as she can to pay for the rest.  
“So, what are you gonna do about your lessons?”  
Maka shrugs. “Quit, I guess. It would kill my dad, but if I keep going it might kill _me_.”  
Tsubaki frowns. “Was it really so bad?” she asks. “I mean, I know why you’re upset. It would’ve been a horrible thing to say, even if your mom _wasn’t_ … But he didn’t know, Maka.”  
“It wasn’t just that,” Maka argues. “He’s obnoxious. He’s a jerk, and he has like, zero social skills. Just being in a room with him makes me tired.”  
“Maybe you should give him another chance,” Tsubaki says. “Maybe there’s something going on in his life.”  
“I doubt that.”  
“You never know.” The sound of tea being poured echoes throughout the dorm. “He didn’t know about your mom, right? So there’s probably something you don’t know about him.”  
Maka accepts the cup of tea, using her sleeves to keep her hands from getting burned. Tsubaki has a point, as always, but at the same time she just doesn’t understand. Soul seems like the type of person who doesn’t much care for hiding angsty secrets. (Or people like her.)  
“I don’t think I want to know anything more about him,” she says. “As far as I can tell, we’ll never get along.”  
“And that’s okay, too.” Tsubaki opens the mini fridge and pulls out two single serving ice cream cups. “So, has Tsubasa asked you on a date yet?”  
Rolling her eyes, Maka relents. “Yeah. A few days ago. How did you know about that?”  
“Oh, word gets around. That senior who can’t keep his mouth shut told me you said no?”  
Maka shrugs. “Tsubasa is an idiot.”  
“But he’s popular. And he seems to be quite the ladies’ man.”  
“Yeah, maybe he attracts all the shallow flirts on campus,” Maka says. “I’m just not interested.”  
“You’re just looking for someone mature enough for you,” Tsubaki replies. “Maybe try dating older men.”  
“Ew! Tsubaki, gross,” Maka complains.  
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. There’s a sea full of fish out there for you, or whatever the saying is.” Tilting her head to the side, Tsubaki smiles at her. “Just go out and find one.  
“You’re such a hypocrite, Baki-chan. When was the last time _you_ went on a date, huh?”  
Tsubaki flushes. “I’m busy, you know. Work and all.”  
“Sure. What was your excuse last time? Or when the guy you _work_ with asked you out?”  
“He didn’t ask me out, and I don’t technically work with him. It was a different branch.”  
Maka crosses her arms. “Well, what happened, then?”  
“He asked for a number with my name when I ordered.”  
“That’s basically asking you out.”  
Face reddening further, Tsubaki lowers her head and smiles sheepishly. “I told him I didn’t own a phone.”  
“Tsubaki!” Maka groans.  
“Now who’s the hypocrite?”  
“Hey!”  
Giggling, Tsubaki refreshes her tea. “Sorry,” she says, sounding absolutely _not at all_ sorry. “So, what are we watching tonight?”  
“I brought Red Dog and Sophie’s Choice.” Maka blows on her own tea, spreading herb-scented steam through the air. “Which one do you want to watch?”  
“Oh, Maka, you know I can’t handle dog movies.” Tsubaki frowns. “Hotel for Dogs was like a tragedy to me.”  
“I remember, I remember.” Maka shakes her head. Tsubaki doesn’t cry over unrealistic romances or over-intense dramas, but put a sad dog movie on and she’ll act as if it were _her_ dog that died. “Sophie’s Choice it is.”  
“Thank you,” Tsubaki breathes, watching as she leans over to put the disc in the DVD player. “Eat your ice cream, or it’ll melt.”  
“Bossy.”  
“I am not!”  
“Motherly, then. You’ll be a great mom when you finally find someone.”  
Tsubaki blushes. “Maka!”  
Maka shrugs, settles back, and eats a spoonful of her ice cream. It’s Ben  & Jerry’s, and she doesn’t care.

* * *

Around ten minutes into the movie, her dad calls. Tsubaki pauses it in favor of heating up more tea, and Maka heads into the hallway to answer.  
“What is it?” she snaps. “Tsubaki and I were in the middle of something.”  
“I know you’re not at your piano lessons,” Spirit says.  
“I _just_ said I was with Tsubaki,” Maka replies.  
“Soul told me about what happened. Maka, I thought you were _used_ to this stuff.”  
Maka huffs. “I’m tired of having to explain it everywhere I go,” she says, annoyed. “Every time I introduce myself, I always have to tack on some part about how my mom left you or it’ll be awkward later on.”  
“You can’t just storm out every time someone makes that mistake,” he replies. “It’s not like we can bring her back.”  
“Not after _you_ drove her away, no.” Maka glares, but she feels guilty as soon as she says it.  
Spirit’s voice goes cold. “Either Soul teaches you piano, or no one does.”  
“I’ll go with no one.”  
“Maka!” he cries, exasperated. “You promised me! What’s so bad about Soul? He’s a good guy, real honest, and a hard worker.”  
“He’s obnoxious, insensitive, and a total annoyance!” Maka snaps. “And he didn’t work hard to get to where he is. _You_ got him to where he is.”  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spirit says. “Everybody has a past.”  
“Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s a cold-hearted jerk and I’m not seeing him again.”  
Spirit pauses on the other line, and Maka’s almost sure she’s won.  
“Let me tell you something about him,” her father says. “Just listen, okay? And don’t say anything about this to anyone. It’s not my story to tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried something.  
> Not sure if I like it, but I'm too lazy to re-write the chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul wonders about Maka's mom and suffers through an Awkward Lunch™ with Liz and Patty.

Soul has decided to go into hiding. In a cave.  
It’s got some pretty promising advantages. No human interaction, for one. No threatening letters from stupid record labels, and nothing he can screw up.  
On the other hand, there’s the problem of survival. He can’t cook or hunt, he’s never gone camping in his life, and if he doesn’t starve or freeze to death he’ll be bored out of his mind. There are no pianos in caves, either.  
He’s still standing there, frozen like an idiot, when someone knocks on his door. “Come in,” slips past his lips without his permission.  
“Soul,” Kid greets him. “Are you busy?”  
“Uh,” is his incredibly intelligent response. Kid steps fully into the room, glancing around warily.  
“Are you okay?” he asks. Soul blinks, shakes his head in confusion, and turns to him.  
“Fine,” he replies. “Did you happen to pass a hysterical girl on the way in?”  
“I did not.” Kid rubs his hands together, then switches to running them over his pants legs. “Why do you ask?”  
“I might have upset that university student I was helping,” Soul replies sheepishly. He glances up at Kid to find a look of confusion on his face.  
“What university student?” he asks, and it occurs to him just then that Black Star never actually told Kid about her. Soul wants to break his own neck.  
“Never mind,” he says quickly. “Why are you being so shifty?”  
“I’m not shifty,” Kid replies. “I’m here because of Liz, actually.”  
No wonder he’s nervous. Kid used to hate getting in the middle of his sister’s relationship. When they still had one, of course, which means he has no right to be interfering now.  
“What is it?” Soul asks, keeping the eagerness out of his voice by sheer force of will. Kid raises an eyebrow.  
“She wants you to come visit Patty tomorrow. You’re going to have lunch together.”  
“With you and Black Star?”  
Kid shakes his head no. “Just the three of you. That’s how Patty requested it, after all.”  
Soul’s heart drops a bit. _Patty_ requested it. “Do I have a choice?” he asks.  
Kid fixes him with a cool stare. “Are you asking _me_ , their _incredibly protective _older brother who loves them more than anything, if you have a _choice___ to go to lunch with them?”  
“Of course not,” Soul backtracks, waving his hands frantically. “It just sounded like I was. It came out wrong.”  
“Look,” Kid says. “It’s your choice. I know things between you and Liz have been tense as of late, but Patty really needs you. You’re like family to her.”  
Soul sighs. He can’t say no to Patty-- never could, if he’s being honest with himself. “I guess I can make time,” he agrees. “For Patty.”  
Kid’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thanks, Soul,” he says, and Soul catches a glimpse of the worn-out, aged man his friend has become.  
“No problem,” he replies, quietly, as he turns back to the piano. “I have to call Spirit and tell him what happened, but, uh…”  
He meets Kid’s gaze, giving him a reassuring smile. “Good luck.”  
Once he’s gone, Soul plops down on the piano bench, backwards, to lean against the keys, and dials his old mentor’s number.  
“Hello? Soul Evans, what’s up?”  
“Hi,” Soul replies. “Spirit, I’m calling about Maka’s latest piano session.”  
“Oh? How’d it go? She’s a fast learner, isn’t she? My smart little Maka, always with her head buried in those nerdy books.”  
“Actually-”  
Spirit continues without a pause. “I knew you’d be able to teach her, Soul. Is she there now? Have her play something, I want to hear it.”  
“Um, Spirit,” Soul interrupts. “Maka’s not here.”  
There’s a pause on the other end, and some shuffling sounds as if Spirit’s pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear. When he speaks again, his voice comes out much louder.  
“What do you mean she’s not there? She barely left half an hour ago. Oh, don’t tell me-- she’s already done with her lessons?”  
“No, not exactly,” Soul replies, remembering Spirit’s over-intense confidence in his musically lacking daughter. “She, uh… I don’t think she’s coming back.”  
His grave statement is followed by another long pause. “What happened,” Spirit deadpans.  
“It was… When did you ever _settle down_?” Soul avoids the question in favor of learning more about his old mentor.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I always see you surrounded by women, and none of them ever show up more than once. So I figured, Maka’s mom…”  
“You thought my precious Maka was the product of a one night stand?” Spirit growls.  
“I didn’t _think_ anything,” Soul snaps. “I don’t really think about strangers’ parents, even if they are my friends. But she told me that everyone said she was just like her mom, which means other people must have had the time to _get to know_ her mom. Before whatever happened, happened.”  
“So?”  
“So… I didn’t know that. And I think I offended her.”  
Spirit sighs heavily on the other end. “Maka’s mom was my wife for three years. It was somewhat of a shotgun wedding, you know. Maka never got to know her, as an adult, you know. It’s a sensitive topic.”  
“I know that now.” Soul sucks in a deep breath. “Look, I don’t think I’m a good teacher for her. It hasn’t worked out so far, and this was only her first lesson.”  
“Soul, you have to do this,” Spirit replies. “Don’t give up on her yet.”  
“I just don’t think-”  
“Soul.” His voice is firm, with an edge of desperation. “I’ll talk to Maka. I’ll get her to apologize, I’ll-- whatever you need, I’ll do it. But you have to do this for me.”  
“Why?” Soul asks, annoyance rising. “Why’s it so important to you? She’s in university, she’ll be fine.”  
“She’s a musician, Soul, I know it. I can feel it. She’s so much like her mother, but I just _know_ she’s like me, too. At least a little bit.” Spirit pauses, and Soul hears a thick swallow on the other end. “Kami used to sing to her when she was a little girl, and Maka would sing back. She loved music so much when her mother was here. I just want-”  
“Sorry, Spirit. I just can’t help you.” His hand is wrapped around his phone so tightly his knuckles are white. This conversation is hitting a little too close to home.  
“Consider it, please. At least until my birthday. And I want you to play at the party, okay?”  
“Okay,” Soul says, just to shut him up. “Bye, Sensei.”  
“And Soul,” Spirit adds. “Just, hang in there, okay?”  
Soul clicks the phone shut. Only after he’s hung up does he realize that he still doesn’t know what happened to Kami.

* * *

Two weeks pass without a word from Maka. Soul goes to lunch with Liz and Patty, and suffers through two hours of awkwardly timed comments (on the Thomson’s part) and resentful looks (all him) that he feels guilty about as soon as he leaves. Black star hits on the barista at their favorite Starbucks for a solid week before she asks for a transfer; Soul doesn’t blame her. He’s surprised she lasted that long.  
Kid isn’t feeling any better. The last time he visited, Soul had discovered seventeen blank canvases stacked along the walls or on the easels. Perhaps Kid thinks inspiration will just hit him if he buys enough of them.  
_Or maybe he’s too afraid to paint what he’s really feeling,_ Soul thinks. _About Patty. Maybe he’s just bottling up his emotions so he doesn’t have to feel them._  
Shaking his head, he pulls his tie tight around his neck, and lifts the marine blue shirt collar over it. He’s wearing the same grey blazer he wore when Black Star dragged him to that bar in high school. The day he met Maka. When he and Liz first kissed.  
God damnit.  
“You dress like Edward Cullen and the guy from 50 Shades of Grey had a child,” Black Star says, looking Soul over in the mirror. Soul can’t be mad at him, because Kid cracks a rare (and getting rarer) smile at this.  
“You did your buttons wrong,” he replies, gesturing to Black Star’s rumpled white shirt.  
“Not caring is the best fashion trend of the year,” Black Star replies, clipping his bow tie together with clumsy fingers.  
“Honestly, were you raised in a barn?” Kid asks, turning around. “You can’t wear a bow tie to a celebrity birthday party. It’s more suited for a middle school play.”  
“Bow ties are classy,” Black Star says, closing his eyes and tilting his head as if he knows something they don’t. “They’re the way to a woman’s heart.”  
“They’re the way to being forever alone,” Soul replies. Kid snickers.  
“Whatever.” Black Star walks to the door, not bothering to tuck his shirt in. “We should get going. Soul, be ready to see that cute student of yours.”  
It doesn’t take Soul a second to realize what he’s saying. “You think she’s gonna be there?” he asks.  
Kid puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “It’s her father’s party,” he says, slipping past into the hallway.  
God _fucking_ damnit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul and Maka have their first Nice Encounter™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short :/ but I hope to start updating more!

“Soul! Soul’s friends!” Spirit greets them at the door. “Welcome, welcome! Have fun tonight.”  
He manages to catch Soul’s eye as they slip past. They don’t say a word, but Soul understands.  
Black Star heads for the food with Kid in tow, and Soul makes his way through the crowd at random, stopping occasionally to say hello. Since they work together, his and Spirit’s associates and co-workers overlap quite a bit.  
“Excuse me for a minute,” he says after a half hour of mingling, politely excusing himself from the conversation. Spirit’s friends resume talking and dancing and eating as he slips out to the balcony.  
Parties aren’t really his thing. He likes hanging out with Kid and Black Star and Liz and Patty, of course. He likes Spirit and Stein as well, because they treat him like an equal despite his age. But that’s about it as far as his social circles go.  
“It’s rude to isolate yourself at a party, you know,” a familiarly scolding voice comments. Soul turns around, ready to either be beaten into the ground or violently cried at again.  
Maka doesn’t look like either of those things are on her mind right now. She’s dressed up nicely, and her hair is curled and let down for once. “Hello, Soul Evans,” she says.  
“Hey,” Soul replies, leaning back against the stone railing. Maka takes a hesitant step forward, then looks down at her hands. He’s opening his mouth to voice a half-assed excuse to leave when she speaks again.  
“Papa told me you were a good guy,” she says. Soul’s actually surprised that she’s speaking to him, and even more surprised when she adds, “I guess I didn’t give you much of a chance.”  
“... Huh?”  
Maka makes her way over to the ledge next to him, and Soul moves his elbow a little to give her some space. She stares out over the city, all black and blue and yellow in the night.  
“Mom left when I was really young,” she says. “After she caught Papa cheating on her almost nightly.”  
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Soul says, because honestly, he doesn’t know what she expects from him.  
“No, listen, okay?” Maka puffs out a small breath. “She filed for a divorce, and two months later, she was gone. I saw her again when I was seven, and again on my twelfth birthday. But I haven’t heard from her since last October, and before that it was Christmas two years ago.”  
Soul casts his eyes around the party inside. Black Star is dancing with a tall, broad shouldered woman who looks fit enough to be a personal trainer. Kid is nowhere to be found.  
“I didn’t understand cheating when I was young,” Maka continues. “I didn’t realize my dad was sneaking around until the divorce. And I thought, to drive away someone as wonderful as my mother, cheating must be the worst thing in the world.”  
Soul feels the urge to defend his old friend. “Your dad’s a good man,” he says. “He’s just got a few problems he needs to sort out. But he loves you.”  
“I know that.” Maka turns to face him, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I misjudged you.”  
Not knowing what to say, he waits for her to elaborate. “I saw you as aloof and uncaring, and I thought you might be the same as he used to be. Or, still is. But, Soul,” Maka says, and their eyes meet. “I don’t think you’re that kind of person.”  
Soul wonders briefly if Maka hit her head or something, or maybe if she had an evil twin. The last time they saw each other was violent and scream-y, and now she’s confessing a deep, dark tale about her past to him?  
“Uh, thanks,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry about what I said about your mom,” he adds.  
Maka’s shoulders hunch. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. Her voice is tighter now. Soul clears his throat.  
“My dad left me when I was a kid,” he admits, because it seems wrong to just take one of her tragedies without giving one of his own. And, well, his whole life is kind of a tragedy.  
“Oh,” Maka says.  
“I don’t really remember him. I know I look like him, but that’s about it, and only because of what other people tell me.”  
Maka looks sympathetic. Soul sighs wearily.  
“He never divorced my mom. They were never married,” he explains, rushing through it now. God, this was an awful idea. “And he never called or wrote or anything. I don’t even know his name.”  
“Soul…”  
 _Just power through it._ “Then my mom fell down the stairs and broke her neck when I was four. I don’t remember her, either. I went to live with her parents for a few years until I was old enough to live on my own. Then I got an apartment and picked up odd jobs here and there until your dad found me.”  
He leaves out the part about him almost starving on a monthly basis, and almost dropping out of school, fights with Kid and Black Star (who were just concerned for his well being) and the exhaustion he’d been too young to deal with back then. He hadn’t meant to lay his whole life story out for her to judge.  
He startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Maka says. “I didn’t know.”  
 _Seriously_ , Soul thinks, _What happened that made her act like this?_ For a minute he’s afraid that someone told her about Patty, because he of all people doesn’t deserve sympathy because of that. Liz, poor, wrecked Liz, deserves it. And, of course, Patty herself.  
Soul imagines Liz telling Maka that her sister is sick. Then he imagines Liz telling Maka that he’s a good guy.  
 _Yeah, right. Liz doesn’t give a damn about any of us._  
“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I’m still here, right? And that’s what’s important.”  
“Yeah,” Maka says, and her hand slips over to his arm almost unconsciously. “We both are.”  
There’s a gentle cough from behind them. Soul looks up and sees a tall girl with a long black ponytail standing just inside the doorway.  
“Maka,” she says, “your dad’s looking for you.”  
“Oh, alright.” Maka takes a few steps, then turns around and waves at Soul. “Thanks for talking with me,” she says. “Maybe we can try those piano lessons again someday.”  
Despite _still_ having the catastrophic noise that was their first lesson ringing in his ears, Soul finds himself nodding.  
“Maybe someday,” he agrees.  
The tall girl gives him a sad look as well, before they both turn and disappear into the crowd. Soul blinks, trying to reorient himself. Kid’s standing where Maka’s friend was a second ago, waiting.  
“Soul,” he says.  
“Hey, what’s up?”  
Kid looks a little nervous. He’s shuffling around and pulling at his tie, and…  
That’s when Soul sees it. Sees _her_. They make eye contact for the first time in over a month, and his entire world falls away.  
“Soul,” she says, turning her head away.  
“Liz.”


End file.
